


The Bastard Wolves

by Janina, Jeanettesc, kittykatknits



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Both Pairs, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Jon, Dark Robb, F/M, Fluff, Jon is still a bastard, Lord Stoneheart, More tags to be added, Multi, R plus L equals J, Smut, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanettesc/pseuds/Jeanettesc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatknits/pseuds/kittykatknits
Summary: Sansa has been rescued from King's Landing by Jon while Robb meets his fate at the Red Wedding. As Jon and Sansa travel north, Stark enemies begin to die and a dark force is said to be making its way through Westoros. Then, one day, a fateful reunion happens.





	1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This largely follows canon in King's Landing, Sansa is forcibly married to Tyrion. Jon does not join the NW but goes south with Robb. The timelines are changed just a bit so that Jon can reach Sansa before they have news of the Red Wedding.

Jon had been surprised when the Lady Brienne had come to request his presence in Lady Stark’s private rooms. They had little reason to speak during all the years together in Winterfell. He’d been a boy of seven when the truth of his parentage had been revealed but the knowledge had come too late.  Jon had lived too long as a symbol of her husband’s betrayal and she could not bring herself to trust him. Once, Jon had hated Catelyn Stark, now he merely pitied her.

It seemed grief and loss were to be the fate of House Stark, starting with the death of his beloved uncle, and now the news of his young cousins, Bran and Rickon, received only two days past.

“Robb will not trade for them. Jon, for the love you feel for my daughters, I beg you, bring them home to me,” she pleaded. Lady Catelyn wore a blue velvet gown, a Tully color he noted.

Her request was a sad one, borne of desperation. She was correct, Robb could not trade Jaime Lannister for his cousins. Jon could almost laugh over it, he had already spoken to Robb.

He stood, peering down at the woman.  “I’ll go. For Robb and for them.” _Not for you._

*****

As King in the North, Robb had made use of his grandfather’s solar for private councils and planning. This meeting required only the presence of his beloved cousin and companion, Jon Snow.  The man had rarely left his side since the day he had summoned his banners to march south. They had fought and plotted war together. He trusted Jon like no other.

Jon sat across from him, clad in the black he so often wore. He had the Stark look to him, grey eyes and dark hair with a long, solemn face. His cousin could appear fierce and cold, like the old kings of winter, to those who did not know him. As the war progressed, Robb had learned much of Tywin Lannister and the dogs he made use of. Sometimes, he wondered if Jon had become his dog, the weapon he unleashed on the field. The thought made him shudder, his father would feel shame if he knew.

“My mother asked you?”  

“She’s a grieving woman, some hope is better than none at all. You can not tell her of our plans.”

Robb nodded, even as the thought pained him. Their silence meant his lords would place the blame for Jaime Lannister’s release on his mother. “A widow and mother, mad with loss, they will forgive her.”

Jon gave him a cold smile, a calculating edge to it. “And you will have your sisters. A few of us travelling through the Riverlands, we should go largely unnoticed. I’ll have Ghost with me. Your uncle will want to scour his lands to get the kingslayer back, prove his worth to you.”

He understood Jon’s concerns, they were his own. The riverlands had become a place of chaos during the war, law and justice had fled many portions of the land, falling victim to Lannister control. “Edmure is a good man, eager to prove himself. The Blackfish can take control of him. Bring them back, Jon.”

If this scheme of theirs worked, Robb intended to take what little remained of his family, his mother and sisters, his new wife Jeyne, and march north to home. He needed to take Winterfell back from the Ironborn. The south was no place for Starks, he had learned that lesson just as his father and grandfather before him.

Jon gave a mirthless laugh. “Our plan will work. I believe I’ll enjoy the kingslayer’s company during our travels. We have much to speak of.”

Jaime Lannister was a prideful man, as all of the Lannisters were, vain and cocksure. The man did not know Jon Snow. Robb almost pitied him

*****

Sansa threw back her shutters and shivered. There were clouds massing over Blackwater Bay. They looked like two great beasts in the morning sky.  She could see their claws extending from their hind legs, their powerful jaws and teeth open in a snarl, ready to tear at their enemy’s neck. One fell and disappeared before rising again, turning a dark grey as it did. The sun came up behind them, turning the beasts a thousand different shades of red, rubies, copper, and the leaves in fall. Too soon, the wind mushed them together and Sansa watched as they slowly disappeared.

After her bath, Sansa joined Tyrion in his solar to eat. She nibbled at the fruit and honeycakes, finding she lacked an appetite. As Pod cleared away the cups and platters, she asked leave to visit the godswood.

“As you wish,” Tyrion answered “Perhaps I could accompany you, I know little of your old gods.”

Sansa had no wish for his company, not Tyrion or any other Lannister. “Forgive me, my lord, I believe you would find it a dull experience, only quiet contemplation on your knees.” _The old gods would not speak to you._

Tyrion stared at her with his mismatched eyes and for a moment Sansa thought he would insist on joining her. “Perhaps, Sansa, you know me better than I thought. I wish you peace in your devotions.” He got down from his chair, leaving her alone at the table.

She sighed in relief. Those clouds were an omen. Robb and Jon were still fighting the Lannisters, they would give her Joffrey’s head one day.

*****

They were less than a day’s ride from King’s Landing. Jon lasted all of two hours into their journey before trussing up Jaime Lannister. The kingslayer had ridden bound, gagged, and blindfolded since then. Cleos Frey made up the third member of their traveling party.  Jon found the man to have both the wits of a cow and nursemaid skills of a goose, making him the ideal caretaker for the former Lion of Lannister.

His time in captivity had worn at him, his beard was a knotted mass of snarls, and lice had made a home in his scalp. His once fine clothes had turned to rags, faded and sweat stained. A good bath and shave, he’d pretty up well enough.

“Ser Cleos, fetch some water. The kingslayer needs a trim and scrubbing.”

Jon pulled the blindfold and gag off Jaime Lannister. The man slammed his eyes shut and looked away from the sun’s harsh light. He then focused in on Jon, his green eyes lit up with insolence. “Jon Snow.  The Black Bastard and your cousin’s lap dog.”

“I believe Black Bastard started the night of the whispering woods when I killed so many of your boys. Several of them cried at the end, did you know that?” Jon leaned back against the tree.

“Boys. You Starks talk of honor, Ned Stark condemned me for the death of children. Yet here you are, boasting of dead boys.”

That amused him. “I’m no Stark.”

Ser Cleos the Witless returned with a bucket of water and bit of soap. “My Lord, I have no other clothes for him.”

“The rags will do, he can wear them a bit longer.”

Jon watched the kingslayer be stripped and washed, snickering to himself at the man’s shrunken muscles, grown soft from little use. “I see your sword hand has been neglected, Ser Jaime.”

The kingslayer lifted his right hand as best he could from his binding, waving the fingers ever so softly. “The very same hand I used to shove your cousin out a window.” He meant it as a challenge.

Jon did not bother responding. _Your right hand is it, kingslayer?_

Once he was scrubbed pretty, Jon put his gag and blindfold back on him and sent Ser Cleos off on his mission to the Red Keep and Lord Tyrion.

He then went to work, there was much to be done.

He did not trust the Lannisters to keep their word but he trusted their desire to have their prized Lion back well enough.

*****

Robb rode with his men, in the mud and rain, toward the Freys and The Twins.  Every day that passed, it seemed the sky overhead grew a darker shade of grey, the surrounding rivers began to swell and flood nearby lands.

Jeyne travelled with his mother, surrounded by an honor guard, back amongst the steerage. Robb had regretted taking her with almost from the beginning, she was not used to the travel and her presence would further Walder Frey’s ire. There was little to be done for it now.

There had been no news from Jon since he had disappeared that night many weeks back. It had been the darkest of night, the hour of the wolf. His cousin had japed the blackness of the sky matched the color in his soul. Even so, Grey Wind sensed his wolf brother, and Robb would feel Jon’s presence every night as he slept.

Jon would bring Sansa and Arya back to him and their mother, Robb did not doubt it. The Lannister’s had already broken faith during previous hostage exchanges. His cousin would be ready for it. He would bring Robb’s sisters back and they could finally go home, past the neck and north to Winterfell.

First, Robb had a wedding and bedding to attend. He continued forward, his horse walking in the misery of mud and grey rain. _Curse this bloody wedding._

*****

Sansa watched as Pod delivered a letter to Tyrion before turning her attention to her needlework once more.

“Do you love your brother, Sansa?” Tyrion asked.

“My Lord?” She feared a trick. Robb was a traitor to the Iron Throne.

Tyrion took a sip from the wine cup that he alway seemed to have nearby. “I love my brother, most fiercely,” he told her curtly. “There is little I would not do for him, do you understand?”

“Find Bronn and tell him to come with a dozen men he trusts. Move quickly if you are able,” he said to Pod.

“My Lord..My...Lady.” Pod gave an awkward bow before leaving the room

“I have a dilemma, Sansa. I want my brother back. I once swore in open court to return you in exchange for Jaime. Unfortunately for us both, circumstances are much changed, are they not?”

“Ser Jaime Lannister fought honorably in the hand’s tourney, a knight worthy of the kingsguard.” Sansa looked into his mismatched eyes as she spoke, stilling her features. “I hope one day he will be returned from my traitor brother.”

“‘Traitor brother’. Yes, I’m sure your thoughts are consumed by your traitor brother, your traitor mother and cousin as well, I should hope. Get your cloak and riding shoes on Sansa, we will be journeying shortly.”

_Is he trying to make me speak treason?_

“As my lord husband pleases.” She bowed her head in acquiescence and went to do as bid.

*****

“Lord Tyrion comes and bid me tell you he has followed all your instructions. It will be him, the Lady Sansa, and his sworn sword, Ser Bronn,” Ser Cleos said as soon as he returned.

Jon chuckled, realizing the man believed Tyrion Lannister would keep his word, even after he had once attempted to free Jaime Lannister.   _Witless fool._

He nodded his head. “I appreciate your efforts, Ser Cleos. As a thank you, House Stark will be freeing you today, you may return to your cousins, if you wish.”  _They will be delighted, I'm sure._

“My Lord, I thank you, must humbly.”

Jon ignored him, he’d only need him a few minutes longer.

He closed his eyes, making better use of Ghost. There were several men, perhaps as many as twelve or thirteen.

“Ghost, to me,” he called out.

Ghost appeared from amongst the trees and came to sit at his feet. Jon pulled the long stretch of rope from his saddlebags and began to tie a noose into one end of the rope before throwing it over a thick branch and knotting the opposite end onto the base of the same tree. After, Jon gave the noose a few sharp yanks to make sure the branch would hold.

“My Lord Snow, this is an exchange of hostages, may I ask what you mean to do?” Ser Cleos’ voice wavered in fear.

“Call me Lord Snow again and I’ll put a dagger in your gullet,” Jon replied dismissively.

The fool backed away. Jaime Lannister sat where he had been left, bound, blind, and unable to speak. _Another fool._

Jaime Lannister had his arrogance on full display for Jon, determined not to let a stray bit of fear show. He intended to make use of that.

Jon grabbed the hand axe he carried with him. “Stand up, Ser Jaime, I want them to see you.”

He guided the man towards the stump he prepared, just under the noose. He kicked the man, knocking him to his knees while calling for Ghost. His wolf growled into the kingslayer’s face. Jon barely paused to enjoy the man’s quiver of fear before severing the bindings on his wrists and grabbing one hand to place it on the stump. Jon put his boots over the kingslayer’s wrist. “This will hurt. I understand screaming helps with pain.”

Jon let the axe come down. Jaime Lannister screamed.

He tossed the axe away and yanked the man to his feet. The man moved like a sack of potatoes in his shock. Jon grabbed the large scrap of cloth he had prepared and wrapped the newly made stump. “Best apply pressure with your other hand, don’t want you bleeding out.”

He shoved the kingslayer up onto the stump and placed the noose around his neck. Seconds later, several men appeared, led by a dwarf with a mop of gold and silver hair. His nose was missing. Next to him, sat Sansa Stark on a horse of her own. He did not see Arya.

“Lord Snow, I had hoped to see my brother in a better condition.”

Jon shrugged his shoulders. “Where’s the other one?”

“Jon, she has not been seen since before my father was killed, I swear it to you. I do not now where she is.” He could hear the terror in her voice. Ghost could smell it.

He ignored her. “Lord Tyrion, your brother is grievously injured. You can save him or you can keep the Lady Sansa. I should let you know, several of your men are about to die.”

Tyrion began to cackle. Jon ignored that too.

“Sansa, come towards me.” She looked between him and the Lannister man, terror on her face. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

She nudged her horse a few tentative steps forward. It was all Jon needed.

“Ghost,” he yelled before kicking the tree stump out from under the kingslayer.

A white blur shot forth, frightening the horses so several reared up and threw their riders. Several screams of shock and fear  went out before being quickly extinguished as Ghost crept amongst the men now laying on the ground.  

Jon ran to his own horse, mounting it before moving towards Sansa and grabbing her reins. “We need to go, now.”

Sansa focused on him for the first time. The fear was gone from her, replaced with a strength and resolve he could not recall seeing in the girl he once knew. “Lead, I will be right behind you."

He called for Ghost and they began to ride, driving their horses as fast as he dared. Jon spared a few glances behind him to see Sansa keeping pace.

They rode on, towards Robb and home and freedom.

 


	2. The Journey Begins

 

 

It wasn't the ride that wore on her, it was the silence with each passing minute. Jon stayed at a steady pace in front of her until the day turned into night, and more and more questions toiled in her mind. How long he planned to travel in the cold, dark night was at the forefront until she could take it no more. 

"Do you have plans to stop?" She asked.

"Aye." 

She waited for him to turn or at the very least slow down, but the gap only widened between them. Her patience wearing thin, she pulled back on the reins and patted the mare. Jon finally turned his head and pulled on his reins to join her. She saw the twitch of jaw below his ear as he came close and shivered openly. Jon's eyes fluttered shut before reaching behind him and pulled out a fur cloak. 

"Here." He offered. 

"When are we stopping to camp?" She asked reaching across to take the cloak from him.

"I don't-when I feel it is safe Sansa." He answered wearily.

She had seen annoyance before, many times in fact. The times she offered to help her sister stitch properly, whenever she had bothered her brother for conversation in the Great Hall, every time she sat across the Queen, and most definitely her awful son, however, she had never seen it come from Jon, until this moment, and a lump of anger quickly formed in her throat.

Jerking the rest of the cloak from his hands, she balled it up quickly and threw it between her lap. The breath came from her nostrils as heated as the blood in her cheeks as she stared back at him with glowering eyes. Jon's mouth remained straight but she swore she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes and it angered her even more.

"As little as I care for the King's _men,_ shouldn't you have spared their lives and Ser Jaime's _hand_ during the trade so that we _could_ travel safely?" She hissed.

Jon looked to his right and left before dropping his head with an amused sigh. "You are aware that we are still at war?" 

"Yes Jon I am aware, but-"

"And you are very aware of how and why it started." 

" _Well aware."_ She clenched her teeth behind her mouth to bite back the tears of the memory. 

"Aye, and after all that, you don't trust the first family you've seen in-"

"I trust you Jon, but this is the first time I've had a chance to talk to you! I have questions!"

"Lower your voice." He growled. 

She shivered again as they both heard the soft steps in the dark. Jon didn't turn around and she relaxed when seeing his shoulders ease. _Ghost._

"We can set up here." He mumbled and dismounted. 

Taking both reins, Jon walked them into the darkness and stopped where Sansa finally saw the light of the moon. They travelled over the hill and started to descend until the moon was hidden again and in the thickness of the dark, felt Jon's hand on her waist. 

"Here, let me help you down." He offered. 

She swept her legs around to dismount as his grasp around her ribs helped guide her down. Once her feet were on the ground, she let out a heavy breath as her hands, already over his shoulders, wrapped around his neck. The muscles in his back shifted the moment he reached around her, returning the embrace, and she finally felt free to wince in relief over his shoulder. 

 

"The day Father was taken..nothing after that." She ended faintly above a whisper. 

She couldn't meet his eyes. She could scarcely meet anyone's eyes on the subject of her only sister, but Jon was the first face of family she had no answer for, and it twisted her insides.

"I'm sure she..got away safely." He offered half heartedly.

"I only wish I _knew."_ She added. "I know you were close, closer than.. _us."_

She still refused to look up, feeling every answer would be useless. Her role in all of this had proven useless. Her brother leading an army and proving to be a true King even after the loss of their father, their youngest brothers, his youngest sister and betrayed by his best friend..all to trade the Kingslayer for _her._ Would he be disappointed in the trade for a beaten, broken Lannister wife? Would her mother send Jon back out to search for Arya? 

She saw Jon's hand reach down to retrieve a canteen. After taking a long sip, she gave him a desperate glance and he hesitantly handed it over. The wine singed her throat and warmed her stomach. Still sour on her tongue, she clicked the roof of her mouth before taking a larger gulp. 

"You should eat more if you are going to drink that way." He warned.

Taking her third sip, she wiped the drops from her mouth with the back of her hand and shook her head. "I'm not hungry." 

"That's enough Sansa. We still have a long journey ahead." He grunted as he reached to snatch it away during her fourth swig. 

Instead of protesting, she watched him drink and felt the courage to ask.

"Why did you sever his hand?" She blurted.

His eyes seemed to darken after he swallowed. "He.. _deserved it_ Sansa." 

"But why?" She pushed.

"He pushed Bran from the tower." He rasped. 

Sansa sat stiffly and felt her eyes begin to brim with tears at the mention of her brother. So frail, so tiny in his bed last she saw him. His sweet face so sound, and the last time she would ever see it. She looked to her right and wiped her dampened eyes on the collar of her cloak, then held her hand back out.

"Sansa-"

"Please Jon, don't make me beg. I am a woman grown now, forced to marry into a family who murdered my father in front of my eyes, beaten in front of court and isolated from what little remains of my family.. _I want to drink."_

He pushed the skin flask into her hand with a grunt and stood. "We need to put this fire out."

She glanced over her shoulder to the small tent he put up. She wasn't use to sleeping in such conditions, and this was not the kind of tent that she was familiar with. It looked barely big enough for the both of them and had no flap. Jon followed her questionable stare and sighed.

"I apologize for the lack of extravagant accommodations during your rescue mission Lady Stark." His voice held more bite than the night air. 

"That is unfair." She stood. "It's just..will we both fit in there?"

Jon finally grinned and stomped out the fire. "You'll need the tight fit if you want to stay warm through the night."

Sansa watched their surroundings dim as the light of the fire was snuffed out and stepped slowly towards Jon's silhouette. With a dizzy head, she felt her eyelids close heavily as she threw her head back for a last sip. Jon caught her before she teetered back as she rolled her heavy head forward and smiled. 

"This is the most we have ever talked Jon." She pointed out. 

"Mhmm." He grunted and began walking her back. "Front or back?" 

"Beg your pardon?" She asked in a mocking tone.

"Seven Hells Sansa, do you want to sleep in the front or behind me?"

She giggled, for the first time in ages it seemed. "Back. I'll sleep in the back. _Behind you."_

Jon pulled the wine away with force as she heard what was left, slosh around and then his gulps to empty it. Helping her back into the tent, he set her inside and stepped away. Sansa raised her head and waited until he came back with the cloak he had offered her earlier and lay in front, facing her, while he threw the heavy cloak over the both of them. She allowed her dizzy head to fall to the ground as Jon moved closer. 

"My Lord Husband never got _this close."_ She hummed. 

"Did you bed him?" Jon boldly asked.

"No." She replied, turning serious. "I bedded no one."

"Did he hurt you?" 

"Not him, no." She still felt the warmth from the wine. "Did you wish to kill him Jon?" 

"Aye." He replied. "I wish to kill them _all."_

Sansa rolled to her back and the weight of blood rushed to her head. She understood why he wanted them all dead, she wished it as well, regardless of who specifically harmed her family, she wanted the Lannisters to be wiped out. 

"Sleep Sansa..you will see your mother and Robb soon."

She found something to smile about as she turned to her side and closed her eyes. Having moved just a few inches from Jon, she felt the chill of the night and backed up until she was pressed comfortably against his body. Under the cover of darkness in the middle of the forest, she felt more safe in her cousin's arms than every night she spent at Kings Landing. 

"I'm glad it's you Jon." She whispered.

 

Waking to the sound of leaves rustling behind her, she strained to open her eyes to the light of dawn. Reaching out, she felt emptiness behind her and turned around with a beating head. 

"I've readied the horses and Ghost has already run ahead. We need to go now Sansa."

"Mmmm." She moaned in slight pain. 

"I did warn you." He began to pull at the stakes. "Sansa come on, here's some water. _Drink."_ He demanded.

She began to crawl out and struggled to stand. The first sip of water flushed in her empty stomach and made her queasy. 

"Do you need to get sick before we ride?" He asked, his voice laced with familiar annoyance.

"I'm fine..I'll be fine." She snapped.

The morning chill and empty stomach caused her to wrap the extra cloak tightly around her neck as she walked to her horse. Jon packed quickly and walked over to help her on. She lay her head gently over the mane and grabbed the reins before sitting up slowly and watched Jon mount his easily. She dreaded a full day of riding, staying quiet to go unnoticed, and a heavy aching head bouncing as she kept up with Jon. 

"Will we be camping alone again?" She asked as they began to move. 

"Aye. No one knows the path we're taking." 

"Is Robb's army at the Twins?" 

He nodded.

Sansa let the anticipation of feeling her mother's arms around her lead her the rest of the day. Thoughts of her brother's gentle blue eyes staring back at her and hearing his voice, filled her with more determination. She stayed close to Jon and with every gallop, found herself more excited to reunite with them. They stopped for more water and Sansa washed her face quickly before walking back. Stopping in her tracks as soon as Jon waved to her, she followed his lead and crouched down behind a tree. 

She watched Jon standing straight, stretching his neck, and turned to Ghost approaching her. The dire wolf stepped to her side as she waited breathlessly. 

"Tully men." He called back to her. 

She straightened and raced up the hill to join him with Ghost on her heels. As they waited for the two men approaching on horses, Sansa felt the dread by the the look on their faces. 

"Jon-" She whimpered. 

Noticing the same, Jon walked forward to meet them while she remained, unable to move her feet. Her stomach dropped when the man dismounted and looked somberly to the ground. She heard no words, just watched Jon and held her breath. 

_Look up. Look at me Jon. Tell me it is alright. My family. All that we have left. Please don't. Don't close your eyes. Jon...no._

He finally faces her and his saddened, dark grey eyes are the last thing she sees before the world goes black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is up to par with Kittykatknits amazing start, because her and Janina already know how nervous I was. Huge thanks to everyone reading!


	3. Grief & Hope

Someone was tapping her face. 

No, not just someone. Jon. 

Sansa's eyes fluttered open and she found Jon peering down at her, his gray eyes full of concern and worry. And sadness. She saw sadness there. "Robb?" she whispered, her voice quivering and heart clenching. "Mother?"

He swallowed hard and his throat bobbed. "Sansa..."

Her eyes filled with tears and she turned her face away, not caring that she was lying on the ground still and that she would get dirty. She could hear voices in the background. The Tully men. They were whispering to one another and Jon was kneeling beside her, looking not so self-possessed as he had before, but a bit lost. 

"What happened?" she whispered, afraid to even speak. Afraid to make this all real. She knew, deep in her gut, deep in her bones what had happened. 

Robb was dead. So was Mother. When Jon said it aloud, Sansa couldn't help the sob that came. It tore through her body, causing it to quake. She sobbed for Bran, for Rickon, for her father, Robb, her mother, and Arya. She cried for herself and all that had happened in King's Landing, and she sobbed for Jon too. They had all lost so much, and they just kept losing. Just when she thought she'd have some family back, just when she thought she would see home again...

"Sansa, you have to get up now," Jon rasped. "Come on. We have to keep moving. We can't stay here."

"Who did it? How?"

"The Frey's," Jon muttered and, apparently tired of her lying on the ground and sobbing, stood and then pulled her to her feet. "They laid a trap."

"What sort of trap exactly?" His inability to give her little to no information was a good thing to focus on. It annoyed her, and she'd rather be annoyed than feel grief pressing down on her. 

He dragged her to her horse as he spoke. "They welcomed Robb, your Mother, and Jeyne, and laid out a feast for them. They made it seem as if all would be well despite the fact that Robb broke his half of the feudal contract by breaking his betrothal."

"Robb was wed?!" 

Jon tried to get her on the horse, but she shoved him away from him. He looked surprised by that. 

"You tell me things in fits and starts," she snapped. "Who is this Jeyne he wed? Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Getting you and keeping you safe seemed more important than telling you about Robb being wed."

"Is it? From what you told me it's because of that union he was killed by the Frey's!"

"Walder Frey agreed to wed his daughter to your Uncle Edmure instead. But it wasn't what he'd wanted, and he killed Robb for what he felt was a betrayal."

"Is Uncle Edmure with them now? He could do nothing to stop this?"

"One man against an army of men? No doubt he was kept prisoner, Sansa. Get. On. The. Fucking. Horse."

Sansa glared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to hold herself back from shouting at him. Jon glared right back, clearly not about to stand down. He looked about ready to toss her on the horse if she didn't do as he asked, too. No. Not asked. Demanded. 

She got on the horse, but she wasn't happy about it. What, she wondered, was there to be happy about anyway? Her family was either dead or had disappeared. And those who had disappeared could also be dead by now. Despair threatened to engulf her yet again, and she wondered if this was what The Stranger felt like when he came. Did he wrap his cloak of darkness around you and just whisk you away, allowing you to just give up and give in? That is what she felt like doing. Give up. Give in. 

"Where are we going now?" she asked, trying to keep the fresh batch tears at bay, but failing miserably. 

"The Neck," Jon said as he mounted his horse. "The path we'll take you'll not like, but it's for the best and will keep us undetected."

What did it matter? she wanted to ask. What did it matter if they were caught anymore? At least if they died they could rejoin their family. Jon would get to finally meet his mother and father. And she would get to see hers again. She could tell her father how sorry she was for everything. 

She had more questions about Robb, his wife...the plan he had now, but she had no energy for them. 

_Give up_ , she thought. _Give in._

xxxxxxxx

Jon peered over his shoulder at Sansa; she’d been quiet for quite a while and though it was helpful while they traveled, he was worried about her. 

He couldn’t blame her for her reaction to the news about Robb and Catelyn. He had wanted to unleash his anger and sorrow as well, perhaps attack a tree with sword as Robb had done when he’d learned the news of his father. Jon had kept contained himself then for Robb, and he had done the same again for Sansa. He had to plan and strategize. He had to keep them moving forward and keep them alive. 

Robb…

Robb dead. 

There was little love lost between him and Catelyn, but he still felt something about her passing as well. Father. Catelyn. Robb. Rickon. Bran. Who knew what had become of Ayra, and he couldn’t shake what Sansa had said last night over their fire: _‘beaten in front of court’._

He wanted to ask questions, wanted to know exactly what she had endured with the Lannisters, but he’d had to master himself first. Emotions were running high and his mind had been filled with keeping them safe, and trying to make Sansa as comfortable as possible. 

But he wanted to know what they’d done to her. They didn’t need any more reason to slay the Lannister scum, but if they had beat Sansa…

Jon’s hands tightened on the reigns and he clenched his jaw so tight it ached. 

He slowed his horse, allowing for her to catch up. She barely noticed. Her hair was a tangle, her dress dirty, there was even a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and while she probably didn’t know about the dirt on her cheek, she had to know about her hair and dress. Yet she didn’t seem to care. 

_Grief_ , he thought. _It could fell a person._

She held the reigns in her hands, but the grip was loose. She wore no expression and she was pale. “Sansa,” he murmured. “Do you need to make water?’

She glanced at him, but just barely, and shook her head. 

He’d expected some sort of reaction – a snide comment, a haughty remark – anything but none at all. Sansa, the highborn lady that she was, should have had some reaction to the suggestion she might need to piss. 

“Do you need to shit?” he asked next. 

She looked at him now, eyes blazing. He was brought back in an instant to memories of how Catelyn treated him before it was known he was not her husband’s bastard son, and he felt his hackles go up.

But still, she replied not and turned away from him again. 

“Sansa—”

“What does it matter if we reach The Neck? What is to become of us anyway? We have nothing anymore, Jon. No kin.”

“Arya—”

“Arya is dead. Let’s not mince words, Jon. Let’s not pretend that there is any hope to be had for anything in this war.”

“Sounds like you’re giving up,” he mused, trying to sound calm and not at all startled by how very weary she sounded. The kind of weary where you didn’t care what happened any longer, and only pain reminded you that you were still alive. He’d been there. More than he cared to admit. War did things to a man. He’d seen how it had changed Robb, and it had changed him, too. He felt more as an extension of his sword than a man. 

Yet the spirited girl he’d rescued the day before had hope. He’d seen it in her eyes. Relief and hope. The promise of home. Of being reunited with the family she had left. Now she was sinking into despair and her hope had fled. 

His had too. But he wasn’t about to die in this war. Not without seeking vengeance. Not without trying at least to find Arya. He would not give up on her. And he would not give up on Sansa by letting her give up. 

“Would your Father want you to give up?” he asked. “Would Robb? Your mother?”

“What does it matter, Jon?” she sighed. 

He reached over and grabbed her reigns, stopping her horse and his. She looked up at him, eyes wide and he looked right into the blue of her Tully blue eyes. “You will not give up, Sansa Stark. You will not allow the Lannisters to take everything. You will remember that we still have a home to get to, and we _will_ get to it. We may have lost the rest of them, but we still have each other. We’ll get to the Neck, we’ll rest, and we’ll plan. We’ll take back what is ours. Do you trust me to do that for you?”

Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She nodded. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I do.”

He nodded once, curtly. “Then let’s carry on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Rover, Red Rover, send Kitty right over... ;)


	4. Hangings

They rode in silence for the remainder of the day, occasionally walking to allow the horses rest and opportunity to eat nearby roughage. The riverlands were a hostile land to them now, Jon did not know which House had betrayed the Stark cause. The Freys would not have acted alone, they had broken guest right and were accursed for it.

It was not until the sky began to darken that he led them into a copse of trees away from the road to build a meager fire, the orange glow of the flames would serve as a beacon to any common thief or soldier that may happen by. Ghost would be serving as their eyes and ears again that night.

“I can’t recall ever seeing you with a bit of dirt on your face.”

The white of her eyes flashed in the fire light. “I am unaccustomed to this form of travel.” She smoothed the locks of her hair before gently wiping at her cheeks. “One of many harsh lessons I learned during my time in King’s Landing is that people see only what they wish to see. I was a stupid girl there. Perhaps I can pass as a common one here. Or a boy even.”

He snorted. Sansa had changed since he had seen her last. She’d been radiant as a girl. She’d grown into a woman with lovely teats, slender with long legs. The plainest tunic and breeches could not hide her woman’s body. _I wager the curls on her cunt are the same shade as the red of her hair._ “Only a blind man would mistake you for a boy. That silk gown of yours though, that’s a noble woman’s dress.”

“Where are we?”

Jon considered. “East of Harrenhal. We will be avoiding it, with Roose Bolton gone, I do not not know who is in control.”

Her expression grew sharp. “Harrenhal? Littlefinger was granted Harrenhal and made Lord Paramount after the Blackwater. As a reward to his service to the crown.”

Catelyn Stark had known Petyr Baelish as a child. “Do you trust him?”

“He made me feel undressed when he looked at me. It was him that made the alliance between the Tyrells and Lannisters.”

Jon added one more name to the list of people he would see dead. “Tell me of the Tyrells. Did they know what the Freys would do?” He dearly hoped so.

“They arranged a betrothal for me. I was to go to Highgarden to marry Willas Tyrell. I..someone I knew told me it was because they wanted Winterfell.”

Jon did not answer. If this was so, then the Tyrells wanted Robb to die as much as the Lannisters. They were as much an enemy of House Stark as Tywin. “Did you see anyone from the Riverlands in the Red Keep?”

She looked at him, grief stricken. “None. No one from the Vale or the north. The court was full of people from the Westerlands and the Reach mostly. Some from the Stormlands and Crownlands, those who left Stannis’ cause after the Blackwater. You wish to know who plotted to kill Robb and my mother?”

Jon wished to know who was their enemy. “It would help us to know who we can trust.”

“No one,” she said fiercely.

“No one,” he agreed.

“I need your cloak. And leather ties if you have them.”

Jon tossed her his cloak. “We can get you ties when it is light. Why do you need the cloak?”

“You are dressed like a farmer, not even a merchant, Jon. The cloak is undyed, roughspun wool, suitable for a farmer’s wife. Someone of that station will put her hair in plain braids.”

He took a sip from his wine skin. “You have changed since I saw you last. Sansa Stark, farmer’s wife.”

“One could say the same of  you, Jon Snow. Taking a man’s hand as if it were of little matter and setting his wolf against men.”

Those were not the first men Ghost had killed and would not be the last. “Jaime Lannister is a prick. I do, however, deeply regret not making you a widow. If I had known of your marriage, Tyrion Lannister’s throat would have been the first ripped open.”

The Lannisters would demand payment for what he had done, Jon did not doubt it. They would send men looking for the both of them. It was only a matter of time until some happened upon the two of them.

“How are we going to reach the neck? That way lies the crannongmen, you intend for us to go to Howland Reed.”

“I intend for Howland Reed to find us. We will need to cross the Trident at Harroway town, avoiding both the Freys and moat cailin.” Jon could keep her hidden away from villages and holdfasts on their journey easily enough. There would be no avoiding people in Harroway though, that was the only part of their journey to worry him. Even if they passed as a farming couple, Ghost’s presence would not go unnoticed.

“Jon, did Robb know you had come for me?”

“We hatched the scheme together.” He did not elaborate, the subtle shifts in her expression telling him she understood, Robb had known exactly what he intended to do. He pitied her then. Jon had not forgotten her earlier comment, she had been beaten. Perhaps worse. “Your mother begged me to rescue you as well. It took us some time but your family did not forget you. He was as much a brother to me as he was to you, Sansa.”

Her eyes slammed shut before issuing a rapid burst of blinks. “Thank you,” she whispered.

They were mostly quiet after. Eventually, Jon put the fire out and they went to sleep.

He tasted the raw iron of fresh blood. Two men at arms lay dead on the ground, twin towers on their chest. The blood from their wounds spurted out, pooling around their body as they looked, unseeing, up into the night sky. Jon howled in his joy before seeking further prey.

His eyes snapped open as he bolted upright. The sky was still grey in the early morning light. Sansa slept on, curled up next to him. Twin pools of red looked back at him. “Ghost. Your brother is alive, isn’t he?”

Ghost gave no answer, as silent as he had ever been. Even so, Jon knew, it was his wolf that had sent the dream to him. “We will find him, I promise you.”

After, he woke Sansa and they were riding soon enough. They ate a simple meal of black bread, salt beef, and hard cheese. It was plain fare yet Jon had enough for them both to last another sennight. After, he would either need to steal their food or risk appearing in a passing village. He would not waste time on hunting.

Several more days passed and a routine began to form between them. They woke with the rising sun and then continued their journey,  always north. They rode and walked, giving their horses opportunity to feast upon the forage that could be found. Twice, Ghost happened upon a stray Lannister soldier, clad in the crimson of their colors. Jon found that disappointing, it hid the red of their blood.

They were only a few days ride when Ghost came upon them, three Frey soldiers, alone. _Soon to be dead men._

Jon pulled her bridle, stilling their movements, before placing a finger over his lips. Sansa stared back at him, awaiting directions. He got down from his horse and went towards her. He placed his hands on her waist, to help ease her out of the saddle

He pulled her close, feeling her hands upon his chest. “There are three Frey men ahead of us. Ghost and I are going to have a visit.”

“What if you get hurt?”

Jon felt surprised, the thought had not occurred to him. “I won’t.” He pinched her chin so she looked up at him. “Stay here with the horses. I won’t be gone long.”

She did not answer, merely nodding her head as he walked away. They were quickly found, the loud shouting of idiots could be heard from a distance. Three Frey foot soldiers sat around a fire, eating what looked to be a meal of roasted rabbit and wine.

“I hear Lord Frey is offering a hundred golden dragons for Beric Dondarrion and this Lord Stoneheart.”

“Killed a grandson and and now Merritt too. Found them hanging next to each other.”

“It’ll be one hundred fifty soon, if enough of Lord Frey’s family gets killed.”

That was enough, Jon nodded to Ghost who surged forward, leaping across their fire. The first soldier was killed before any of them could react. Ghost ran to the second, silent even when taking a life. Jon ran up to the third, a brown haired, weasel-faced man. He’d been scrambling for his sword when Jon put a dagger to his throat.

Behind him came a terrified cry and then abrupt silence. His wolf padded up next to him, his white fur turned red to match his eyes. He moved quickly, stabbing the man in the belly twice before giving a sharp turn of the knife.

A sharp moan of fear and pain escaped him as recognition grew. “I know who you are.”

Jon grinned. “Then you know what I can do.” He twisted the knife once more. “You are a dead man, know that. Answer my questions and I will end your pain.”

The man nodded as a tear escaped him. _Craven._

“Who is Lord Stoneheart?”

“He’s with that Brotherhood, m’lord.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No, m’lord. I heard he’s been seen with Beric, the Lightning Lord. They’ve been spied near High Heart, Old Stones, and along the Ruby Ford.” A fine trail of blood oozed from the man’s mouth.

“What does Walder Frey want with him?”

“They say he killed Petyr Frey and Merritt Frey, hung ‘em from a tree.”

Jon gave a flat smile. “No more than they deserved. I suspect neither will be mourned, least of all by their wives.” He stood then. Sansa would be waiting for him.

“You promised mercy, m’lord.”

He looked down at the Frey soldier. “Aye, so I did. Ghost.”

Jon left his wolf to finish it, returning to Sansa and their horses. It was past time they continue on.

*****

She waited by their horses, the only sounds to be heard were the running of small animals in the tree branches above and the occasional trill of a bird. Twice, she began to set off in search of Jon. Each time, she stopped after taking only a few step.

“Shall we go then?”

Sansa turned abruptly. Jon was on his haunches behind her, lifting the bottom of her roughspun cloak to wipe the blood off one of his daggers. “Is that necessary?

“Cleaning the blade or seeing to the Freys?” He stood back up. Ghost appeared from behind him to take his place next to her. “Aye, both were necessary.

Jon Snow was a different man than the boy she had left at Winterfell with Robb. He had been sullen at times, but never impolite or short with her. He’d been Robb’s constant companion then. Robb, who had been her hero, who would protect her from dragons in their play. If years of war had made Jon into a man who could kill with such ease, she wondered what it had done to Robb. The thought made her shiver. _He sent Jon to me though and he came._

“How far are we from Harroway town?” It was large enough to have a market. Jon had the dragons for some purchases, she’d seen them.

He ignored her, pulling a skin of wine from their travel bags and taking a sip. “Two days, maybe.”

Sansa followed, ripping the skin from his hands. “It is a large enough town, there will be a market there. There are several items I wish to purchase. A brush, hair pins, soap.” _Silk ribbons, a new gown or three._

Jon gave a husky laugh. “You jest.”

“Oil for my bath, scissors, needle and thread, a mirror. It’s a large enough town, pretend you are making purchases for the lady you are in service too. No one will so much as blink,” she bit at him.

“It’ll be difficult enough getting you through town and across the Trident.”

“Made more difficult if I begin to scream.”

“Please do, I’ll truss you up like a fish.”

“That should work quite well with your desire to cross the Trident unnoticed.” She took a slow breath, placing her hand on his arm. “I am the Lady of Winterfell, Jon. I can not cross into the north looking as I do.”

He grimaced, eyes following the line of her arm to where she touched him. “Believe me Sansa, you could be dressed in rags and would look, in every way, the Lady of Winterfell. We need to go.”

They climbed their horses, preparing to leave, when Jon took her reins. “You stay outside of town with Ghost. If I deem it safe, I’ll see what I can do.”

Two days later, Sansa watched Jon arguing with the ferryman while she looked through all he had purchased for her. The mirror was small and the soap unscented but it would do. She had slept on the hard ground with her only bath coming from a quick splash of river water for days and days. Soon, she would wear nothing but the finest of gowns, would cover her skin with rose cream, and sleep in the softest of feather beds.

“Let’s go.” Jon yanked her arm leading them onto the water horse, pulling their horses along as well.

“Where is Ghost?” she asked. They had followed along the river until arriving at the ferry. The wolf had disappeared sometime back.

“We can pass for small folk. A direwolf in the Riverlands, they would instantly know who I am. Ghost will cross on his own and find us easily enough.”

The boat had a dozen oar locks and two great horse heads carved on it, fore and aft. A little house with a tatch roof sat in the middle.

“Where are the other passengers?”

“I made sure there were no others.” He pulled her close and spoke quietly. “We will be remembered here. As soon as we cross, get on your horse and ride.”

The crossing was smooth and easy, Sansa could almost enjoy the gentle sway of the water under her. They stopped at a stone pillar, marking the other end of the ferry crossing. She saw Jon pass silver and gold to the ferry man and they were once again riding away.

They kept to a steady gallop, slowing on occasion to give the horses rest.

“Will the ferry man keep quiet?” They were walking, letting their horses forage once more.

Jon glanced at her without slowing his pace. “Depends on who asks. With Gregor Clegane, I suspect he’ll be eager to tell them we were there and plotting with Dorne before long. A pair of gold cloaks or Lannister men asking for a highborn lady, mayhaps.”

“Gods,” she exclaimed. Even to Sansa’s own ears, her voice sounded shrill.

Two men, foot soldiers, hung from a nearby tree, a noose tight about their necks. Their eyes bulged, unseeing, from a black face. They each wore the same sigil, two blue towers united by a bridge.

Jon flashed her a terrifying smile, pulling an object from the mouth of one of them. “Hard bread. They have not been here long.”

Sansa did not ask how he knew. _Hard bread. Bread and salt._ “Guest right, The gods have punished them for breaking guest right.”

“Aye, guest right but this isn’t the work of the gods.”

“Can we cut them down? It’s not right to leave the dead like this.” They could not return the bones to their families or even bury them, but it must be a sin to leave them like this.

“No,” he answered curtly. “They can hang until their bodies rot and the crows feast on  their flesh.”

They rode, at a slower trot this time. Another Frey soldier was found hanging. And two more.

Eventually they found the sixth man, his cloak bore the red man on pink. Sansa knew that sigil well. “This is a northman.” The realization shook her. She had known the Ironborn held much of the north and would needed to be rooted out. If northmen stood against House Stark as well. She shuddered to think of it.

“No bread in this one’s mouth. His dying was not an easy one.” Jon held the man’s right arm, showing it to her. “A flayed man has no secrets,” he explained, seeing her look of confusion.

Sansa wondered what great secrets a mere foot soldier could have.

“Ghost, to me,” Jon called out. The white direwolf appeared, his red eyes boring into her.

They continued on. Sansa ceased her counting after they rode past the tenth body.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, Harroway was washed out and flooded by the trident. Oh, well.


	5. Lord Stoneheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No information better than the proof in front of their face.
> 
> Written by Jeanette with much help from Natalie:)

 

 

_"I was just following orders Lord! No! Please!"_

_His feet began to wrangle violently in suspension as he pulled at the rope around his neck. The other two bodies swayed limply by his side as he doubled the slack around his hand, and with a quick jerk, snapped his neck and silenced the man's pleas. The silence washed calm over him but only for a slight._

_More. There were more, and the job was not nearly complete._

_Many to go, he thought._

_Revenge stretched so broadly, an ordinary man may find himself overwhelmed._

_An ordinary man, he was no longer. He would live to see his revenge exacted. If it took him a hundred lifetimes, he would see it done._

 

 

It had been hours since since they'd come across the last hanging body. Sansa had found herself unable to calm her insides as they rode aimlessly through the thick forest. Around any tree could be an enemy. Much worse to her, was the fate a friend may meet at Jon's hands. He seemed to trust no one, and in her peak of grief, she accepted his rash decisions in a numb indifference. 

His silence was a roar in her ears. Almost grateful for the new mystery of this Lord Stoneheart, she saw Jon more than once, take to a moment of private loss. Behind his eyes was an anger, and an unstoppable pain at not being there. Everything in his soul wanted to _be there._ She could have done nothing to prevent the massacre, but Jon..

Jon might have _seen._ He might have _known._ He would have _fought._ He would have _died._

Instead, he had been sent to rescue her and Arya. He only got _her._ She hated to think, on top of everything else, that he felt regret.

_I am not as important as Robb. Robb was brave. Robb was a King. Robb had honor. Robb rallied men with more than loyalty. Robb inspired and united the North. He thinks he could have saved him, and instead he was saving me._

She fought back tears in defiance of her brother's memory. She would not dishonor his life by undermining hers. 

_Be a part of the solution. Be brave like Robb. Time to be a Stark. Nothing will be solved by self pity._

She straightened on her horse and tightened the reins as Jon picked up speed. Ghost had been out of sight for hours, but she knew Jon's lead by now. Following quickly, Sansa's heartbeat thrummed in her head when Jon suddenly dismounted, still guiding the horse by the reins, he turned and shot her a warning glare. Pulling back, she remained quiet and took the reins he held out to her as he continued creeping forward. Trying to dismount as quickly as he, she landed hard on her right foot and felt a sharp pain in her ankle. 

She breathed through the pain and limped to the nearest tree. Reaching around the limb, she quickly looped the leather in a knot and crept forward. Step by slow, painful step in the darkness, Sansa steadied herself, closed her eyes and listened for him. Hearing the faintest shuffle to her right, she crouched down and listened closely. Jon's deep voice crept through the distance.

"-suggest you start talking." Jon could be heard growling.

"No need for that Snow, we are no threat to you and your _companion."_

Sansa stilled in fear. 

The man's voice choked in the distance as she stepped forward. "Jon." She called before coming to a clearing.

Now in focus, her eyes widened at the sight she came upon. Jon's hand around the throat of a man on his knees, Ghost within inches of his face with teeth bared and hairs on end. He did not look up as she approached, but the man in his grasp did.

"Jon." She repeated as she recognized him.

"Sansa, get _back!"_ He hissed. 

"Lady Stark, it is good to see you are well. News of your betrothed-" He was interrupted by Jon's tightened grip.

"It is not as good to be seen as it once was Anguy. Much has changed since last I saw you. All of Westeros may know of my betrothed and nothing about me leading up to then, to this very moment I stand before you."

Anguy reached for his neck as he tried to pry Jon's fingers away. He sighed hard in frustration and looked to Sansa for help.

"Release him Jon." She straightened herself as she commanded. "Understand Anguy, my cousin and I have just cause to question everyone, including our own sworn banner men. We have been betrayed by those who broke loyalty to the Starks and fresh off the death of my brother, are unaware of who can be trusted."

"Trust no one Lady Stark." 

She gasped silently in amusement. "Then shall I have him _continue?"_

 _"_ N-no my Lady. I mean no disrespect, 'tis a warning is all."

_Like Baelish. Vague warnings and words of wisdom, all without the follow through of action. Would anyone put it clearly? Of course they could trust no one, it's the reason you and your men are seconds away from death._

_"_ Thank you for your warning, I'd rather know what lies ahead on our path back home."

He croaked under Jon's tightening grip and stretched his neck. "Allow me to enlighten you my Lady. My men can make camp for the night."

Jon refused to loosen his grasp until Sansa approached him. Her hand reached for his shoulder and squeezed lightly before he broke gaze to look up at her.

"Enough." She insisted. Jon narrowed his eyes and paused before she returned the glare. "Let him go Jon. We may get answers by other means than torture, and these men.." She looked at Anguy and sighed. "They are not the enemy."

With lips pressed hard together, Jon pushed him back when he released him and grunted as he stood. Coming to stand by her side, he heaved his chest as they both watched him catching his breath. Sansa paused for a moment, waiting for Jon to go first, but saw him glance at her from the corner of her eye and took a deep breath when Anguy stood. Ghost remained on alert in front of him.

"Tell me of my brother's army. Are we expected in the North? Have you seen any Northerners in your travels?"

"Most of the army was slaughtered. If you are expected in the North, I do not know of it, and we have only spotted Frey and Bolton men." He sighed. "I have little information my Lady. The men who are left have dispersed and in hiding, like us."

"And what of this Lord Stoneheart? We have seen his trail of vengeance. Who does he fight for? To what house-"

"No more than a rumour Lady Stark. No one has seen this Lord Stoneheart, so I am unable to give you a viable explanation."

She sucked in a breath that chilled her throat and bowed her head. "I would be in your debt shall you allow us to camp with you and your men for the night. Have you food to spare?"

"Very little, but enough my Lady. Plenty of wine though, if you partake."

"I would prefer to keep a clear head, we still have a long journey ahead of us." She bowed. 

Comfortable with their understanding, Sansa began to turn, and tried pulling Jon by his arm. He stayed stiffly in place as she tightened her grip. 

"Call Ghost and let's get our things." She managed to remain in character. 

He finally broke his concentrated glare and focused on her. Defensively lifting her chin, she struggled not to blink and waited for his words of defiance. None came as Jon snapped his fingers and turned to leave. Ghost followed him into the dark as she watched the Brotherhood make camp.

 

She lay in their small tent, more awake as the night wore on, listening to the chatter outside become lighter. The sound of their laughter soothed her as she smiled to herself. Jon spoke bare a word the entire night and she refused to rest until he joined her. Hearing their muffled voices bid him good night, she turned her back to the entrance and closed her eyes. His footsteps stopped before entering, then seemed to fall forward, sighing loudly as he lay still. 

"Are you asleep?" He asked hoarsely.

She contemplated answering and relented. "No."

"Do you think me a barbaric brute?" He asked flatly.

"I...I've seen.." She thought of the proper way to word it. "I've never known you to be this way."

"You've barely known me at all." He snapped. "You don't know what we've seen, what we've been through-"

She sat up and faced him. "And you know nothing of what _I've_ been through." 

She saw his eyes shift and not wanting to start another argument, softened her manner. 

"I am angry Jon, I am hurt, and long for the day I see my enemies face justice. I've had no one to tell of my pain, no one to turn to for comfort, I have no reason to trust anyone because anyone I have ever trusted is _gone,_ and nothing but betrayal and lies has surrounded me. One by one, the only people I would ever trust with my life, has been taken from me, and all I know is to _survive."_ She blinked tears from her eyes.

"You, at the very _least,_ you got to _fight._ You had the chance to be by his side, to know him as a man grown. You, more than any of us, got to spend time with Robb and my m-mother before-"

Jon stunned her by pulling her close. She sobbed into the warmth of his chest and let everything out. Through the fingertips that grasped his arms, Sansa wept for every member of her family who she would never lay eyes upon again. Her sweet Rickon, his wide curious eyes that once annoyed her. Bran, who could slip into his own world without thinking. Oh, how she admired that freedom. Arya, her uncontainable spirit and courage, constantly driven to prove she was no ordinary girl. Robb, his leadership beyond his years, his position in life accepted with no doubt, strong and unconditionally loving to each of them. Her father, always giving her patience she never deserved, desiring nothing more than her happiness. 

Her mother. Her _mother..._

In the arms of the boy she discarded as mostly a nuisance and never attempted to bond with, he is the one who's embrace welcomes her sorrow. She _does_ think he is a brute, but imagining the roles reversed or given the power to do so, she can understand how he came to be this way. He was still _Jon._

_Is he? Did I even know him until now? Would it matter if I did? However he knew me before I left for Kings Landing is not who I am now. He is a stranger to me, and I to him, and we are just now beginning to know each other._

Pulling him tighter, Sansa mumbled thoughtlessly against his chest.

"Sansa." He whispered. "Sansa _shhh."_

She felt him stiffen and begin to push away, but she refused to let go.

"Don't. _Please don't.._ I need this Jon. I need..my family. I n-need-"

She gasped in shock as Jon's mouth suddenly captured hers. Unaware of how to react, her eyes snapped open to see his shut tight and froze while she felt his hands stroke through the back of her hair. An eternity seemed to pass before she closed her eyes and let it happen. She let herself begin to enjoy the touch of his lips on hers. It was soft yet desperate, comforting and frightening, and a feeling she was unfamiliar with, ebbed within her. Of every kiss she had ever received, none felt the way this did. Before she could even think to take it any further, Jon pulled back with a sharp gasp.

Still holding her head, he cradled her face beneath his chin as a low groan rumbled from his throat. 

"I'm sorry." He choked, kissing the top of her head. "You're all I have. I need you too Sansa."

She opened her mouth to speak but shut it and stayed still. They remained silent until the men outside finally broke for sleep. Too comforted in his arms, Sansa closed her eyes over his chest and let the soft rhythm of his heart lead her to sleep.

 

 

_It was another, but only two. He neared them and stayed hidden from sight as Greywind surged ahead. It wasn't until mid afternoon that they finally stopped for water. Stepping around the bend, far enough to stay unheard, he stayed behind a tree by the stream. The edge of his hood was swept to the side as he stretched his neck further. He watched the girl kneel and search behind her before removing her hood and reached in to scoop the water with her hands._

_Lowering her face, she drank from her hands before straightening up. He moved to hide when he caught sight of her._

_Sansa._

_His heart, cold and hollow in his chest until right now, flooded with a warmth that felt new. He knew he loved before. He knew what it was, but it still felt distant and part of another life. It was another life. This was another life. He still felt as though it was the first time he'd ever seen her, and the only love he had ever known...or had left._

" _Fill the canteen San-"_

_Jon. He is with her._

" _Where is Ghost?" She asked quickly._

_"Ahead, he's always ahead."_

_She stood and looked in his direction._

_"What..what is it." Jon stepped past her now and scanned in front of her._

_"Someone." She breathed. "Someone's here."_

_"Ghost would have warned me by now."_

_"I..I-" She kept staring._

_He stepped from behind the tree and watched Sansa reach for Jon. Jon reached for his sword and pulled it from the sheath._

_"Stop right there." He commanded._

_Robb kept his steps steady._

_"Are you-"_

_"Jon!"_

_He reached up and pushed his hood back. A few more steps and he was in clear view. He knew not from distance, but from the reaction from his sister and his cousin. He could see Ghost follow Greywind closely, approaching them, but their eyes remained locked on him. Wide and unbelieving, his sister opened her mouth._

_"Robb?"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter following Kittykatknits is excruciating. I get really nervous because she is quite frankly a genius when it comes to the books. I even begged her permission for the kiss. So here you have my contribution. The introduction to Lord Stoneheart and hopefully it doesn't suck lol


	6. Lord Stoneheart Speaks

Sansa stepped forward, intent on going to her brother. Her _brother_. Robb was _alive_. He didn't look well, his pallor a bit grey, his hair unkempt, and was that dried blood across his cheek...? His blue eyes were steely and he watched her and Jon closely. He looked like Jon when he was ready to do battle, his body tense and rigid and at the ready. 

Jon grabbed her arm and yanked her back before she could take another step and Robb growled low in his throat. "Jon, it's Robb!" she exclaimed. 

Jon's eyes narrowed and he took a step toward Robb, his sword still extended. Grey Wind sidled up next to Robb and whined at Jon while focusing on Jon's sword. He barked and Ghost trotted around Jon as though to stop him from advancing. 

Sansa, done with the nonsense, charged forward and moved around Jon to get to Robb. She reached for her brother, only to have him rear back, looking at her as though he thought she was perhaps a threat. 

"Robb," she said quietly. "It's me. Sansa."

She inched closer to him and he relaxed little by little, his body visibly losing its rigidity. Then, finally, she was upon him and she peered up at him. He was Robb and yet not Robb. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, and sorrow. So much sorrow. His skin was gray and his blue eyes were a stark contrast, appearing as though there was a light shining through them. They didn't look human. 

Tentatively, she reached up to touch him and he winced just before she made contact. "It's me. Sansa," she repeated. Her fingertips touched his cheek and it was as though a dam had burst. He snatched her into his arms and buried his face in her neck, breathing deep. 

His shoulders shook and wetness hit her skin. _He was crying_. Relief coupled with the fact that her strong, always brave brother was crying made Sansa begin to cry as well. "You're alive," she wept into his shoulder. "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive. Robb, you're _here_."

"Sansa," he whispered and her name sounded like a prayer. 

He slumped against her, as though the fight and tension had been drained out of him. He pulled back slowly and looked at her almost reverently. He touched her face and a small smile appeared. "Sansa," he whispered again. 

She smiled. "Robb." She turned, pulling out of his arms and gestured to Jon who was watching them intently, his sword at his side now. He didn't seem to know what to make of this. "Jon," she said. 

"What happened to you?" Jon rasped. 

And just like that the tension in Robb was back. 

"Jon!" Sansa said his name like a scold. "He's obviously distraught."

"He's supposed to be dead, Sansa,” Jon said exasperatedly. 

"Clearly, he's not," she huffed and looked back up at her brother. "Are you hungry, Robb? Thirsty? What do you need?"

"What he needs to do is explain what the bloody hell happened to him and how he's not dead!" Jon said, frustrated. 

"Why are you being like this?" Sansa demanded, the hurt evident in her voice. "Robb is alive and you're his Hand, Jon, and now you're acting as though you'd like to run him through with your sword!"

"He's also responsible for all those bodies swinging from trees." He looked at Robb. "Am I right?"

Robb nodded.

"Aye. I want to believe this is our Robb, too, Sansa, but I don't believe in magic. Never have. And what I see here is a dead man who looks like our Robb but is also dangerous and deadly."

"And you're not?"

Jon was startled by that and he looked at Sansa in surprise. "I've kept you alive, haven't I?"

"So has he," she said simply. "Less men for you to run through."

She had a point, but he was still hurt nonetheless.

She turned back to Robb, her hardened expression gentling immediately and it rankled Jon.

"Robb, is mother alive, too?" She asked gently.

Robb hung his head and then shook it. No. 

Sansa looked ready to cry as she nodded, and Jon saw some hope in her deflate. She reached out and took Robb's hand in her own, ignoring the dried blood and dirt on it. "Can you speak, Robb? Can you tell us what happened?"

Robb looked at her sadly. Finally, he spoke. “I can tell you a little bit.” His voice was hoarse, gravelly, as though he’d just woken up…or hadn’t spoken in days. 

“Let’s sit,” Sansa said and gestured to the fallen tree behind them. She sat first and tugged on Robb’s hand. He sat, glancing over at Jon. Jon clenched his jaw and sat down on the large boulder behind him. He kept his hand on his sword just in case.

Despite what Sansa thought, he did want this to be their Robb. He looked like him, if not a little pale…almost grey, really. And his eyes…a blue shone through like the light of the moon. It was inhuman. What was he now? Jon couldn’t help but think. Was he even human any longer? How could he be if he had in fact died and returned?

“Are you thirsty?” Sansa asked Robb and started to stand. Robb gripped her hand and growled softly. Jon jumped up, starting to pull his sword from its sheath. 

“Stop,” Sansa hissed at Jon and sat back down. “Jon, please fetch some water for Robb?”

Now he was a bloody manservant? Jon grumbled to himself as he went to fetch the waterskin he’d strapped to his horse. He untied it and handed it over to Robb. Robb reached for it, looking up at Jon. 

Jon saw some of Robb there in that gaze, and some of the tension left his body. “You hurt Sansa,” he said softly, but without the same heat from earlier, “and I will run you through. Do you understand?”

Robb nodded and then looked over at Sansa and shook his head. No, he seemed to be saying, I will not hurt her. 

Jon calmed. But only somewhat. 

He sat back down on the rock and watched Robb take long pulls from the waterskin. Water dribbled down his chin and Sansa giggled as she reached over and attempted to wipe away the water with her free hand. 

Robb looked almost sheepish when he’d had his fill and Jon imagined he’d drained the waterskin, too. He held it out to Jon who got up and grabbed it. Aye. Empty. 

“I…I don’t remember everything,” he rasped. “My memories of it. I am not sure how much is real and how much isn’t.”

“Tell us what you remember then,” Sansa said gently. 

“Mother and I and Jeyne, we were at the Frey’s. Uncle Edmure had just wed Roslin Frey and had left with her… to bed her. She had been intended for me but I had wed Jeyne…” He looked at Sansa expectantly. 

“I already know,” Sansa said quietly. “Jon told me.”

Robb nodded and continued. “I danced. I drank. I was enjoying the revels when the music changed…” He cast his face down and Jon saw his expression darken and his eyes shut tight. “The Rains of Castamere started to play.”

“Fucking Lannisters,” Jon swore. 

Tears spilled down Sansa’s cheeks unchecked. 

“It happened before I could do anything to stop it. The Frey men and the Boltons – they were prepared. We were not. Before I could do anything at all, Roose Bolton drove a sword through me and said, ‘Jaime Lannister sends his regards’.”

Sansa cried out and yanked on her hand that was still in Robb’s grip. Jon leapt to his feet, drawing Longclaw just as Robb let go of her hand. 

Jon stepped forward. “Sansa—”

She held up her hand. “I’m all right, Jon. I’m all right. Robb was upset and squeezed too hard is all.”

Jon kept his steely gaze on Robb and sat back down. 

“I am sorry, Sansa,” Robb whispered. “I find I am much changed now. I don’t know my own strength.”

“I’m fine, Robb,” she said and rubbed his arm in a comforting manner. “Tell us more, please.”

Robb lifted his head. “I went into Grey Wind. He’d escaped the massacre somehow. I remember being inside him, my mind…I could see through his eyes. And then there was a great blackness that overcame me and when I came to, a dead man lay next to me and I…rose.”

“What are you?” Jon blurted out.

“Jon!” Sansa admonished. 

“I do not know what I am,” Robb said softly. “I am something other. I do not need as much sleep as I used to. I do not need as much food anymore. I am stronger, faster. I can see in the dark. I am myself and yet not.” He closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. His eyes glowed. “And I’m angry. The Freys. The Boltons. The Lannisters. I want them to pay for everything they’ve done to us.”


	7. A Plan Starts

Sansa listened to Robb’s words, it could have been Jon she had been speaking too. They had the same anger, the same desire for vengeance. Jon’s had  been tempered by a need to see her safe and protected. If she were not there, she could foresee the both of them launching another campaign here in the riverlands, setting it aflame once more. She had seen men with their blood up, she knew what it looked like. 

Jon’s eyes narrowed, there was a feral gleam to them that worried her. He was deciding what should be done next, Robb’s desire to kill their enemies had reached him. “We fought side by side together once before.” His voice had an edge to it, this was a test.

Robb turned away from her, shifting his focus to their cousin. The eerie glow did not leave his eyes. “We could do so again. I want us to taste Bolton blood together. I want to make a gift of Joffrey’s head for my sister.”

“Two heads. She needs to be made a widow.” He was close to his decision. “Do you remember our plan to get her back?” He was asking another question here, she did not know what.

Robb’s jew clenched as a sigh escaped him. “We cast the blame on my mother and made use of the Lannister’s faith in our honor. They won’t make that mistake again.” His eyes grew unfocused then. “I remember thinking you were a weapon made on the battlefield, I almost pitied the kingslayer.”

Sansa recalled Jon’s question to her the previous night, he’d been pained when asking if she thought him a brute. Listening to Robb made her want to weep for him, her cousin was no Gregor nor would she ever let him become one. Jon was probing, seeking out and hoping to find the man he had once loved as a brother, he wanted Robb back as much as she did. Sansa could weep for them all. 

She listened to them speak, as Jon and Robb relearned each other once more. She did not understand why they split foot or calvary for the Whispering Wood or even who Olyvar Frey was, but she recognized their talk all the same. They wanted blood, they felt it was all they had left. Winterfell and the north was lost to the Ironborn and the Boltons, their armies in the south broken and scattered. Killing a Frey archer or Lannister pikeman would only give them a fleeting joy. They would kill another and another but she knew their eventual fate on that path. There would be not be another chance for either of them, that way could only lead to death once more. 

For her, she dreamed of home and Winterfell. Sansa wanted her family, to visit Lady in the lichhyard, to whisper with Jeyne and Beth, to walk on the thick humus in the godswood. Once, she hoped Willas would give it to her after they married. Then, she had demanded it from Ser Dontos. 

Sansa studied the two of them. Jon sat on the edge of the boulder, his legs stretched in front of him, bent forward as he observed Robb. His face was stern. Robb rested by her but his concentration was on Jon. They reminded her of two feral wolves, circling and sniffing at each other. Sansa picked up a blade of grass, it was different than what grew in the north, softer with a deeper shade of green. She stood, ignoring the two men, to stand by the Trident, looking past its shore to the flowing blue waters. The river was truly magnificent, it and the three forks flowed all through the riverlands, merchants made great use of it, farmers had grain barges to get their harvest to markets, traders sailed from one town to another. The north did not depend upon it at all. They did not belong here. She turned away from the musical sound of the water as it passed her by, gazing upon the two of them once more.  _ We belong in the north. They must stop this talk. _

“We should not be here.” 

They did not answer her. She had been ignored and dismissed in King’s Landing for so long, she refused to allow the same with them. Sansa moved to stand between them. “You both speak folly,” she said tersely. 

Robb let out a sound that made her think of a growl, low and raspy. “I want them dead, Sansa. You were not there, you did not see our mother beg for my life or the Smalljon die in his attempt to save me.”

He spoke true, she had not been. But, Sansa had seen a black sky turn a frightening shade of green, had heard the screams of men as they burned. She’d seen a man break apart that night, she knew what it looked like. She had prayed in a sept that day, for all the men, for the soldiers and their families to know the mother’s mercy. 

“No matter what should come, Sansa, we would keep you safe, you know that,” Jon said gently. 

_ Hanging men from trees will not keep me safe. You would bring Lannister wrath upon us all.  _

She stepped towards Jon, waiting before him as he rose to meet her. Sansa remembered their conversation from the previous night, he had needed her there. They both needed her now, more than they knew. 

Sansa considered what to say. The previous night, they had taken comfort in each other’s arms. Jon had confessed his need for her. She drew close, softly cupping his cheeks with her hands. His whiskers rubbed against her palms. “I would not be here if it were not for you, Jon. The Lannisters would have eventually used me up before killing me, I do not doubt it.”

“I would never allow that to happen,” he whispered. 

She kept her voice low. “What would you do with me while you launch your campaign of death?”   
  


“The Reeds would keep you safe, I can promise you that.”

_ Careful. _ “You would rip me away from my family once more, is that the way of it?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think? After…” He did not finish, glancing towards Robb. His voice was rough from hurt and doubt.

“We need each other, all of us.” She moved briefly so their foreheads touched. She could feel one of his hands rest against her hip. “I will not be put in another tower, waiting for rescue.” She had been a prisoner in Maegor’s for so long, Sansa would not allow them to do it to her again, no matter the intentions. 

“What do you want?”

“Us. Home.” Sansa kissed him, she wanted them to give each other the comfort they had the night before. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his lips, the growing urgency as the touch deepened and his tongue licked at her. Sansa felt the fingers at her hip bite into her skin. His other hand grasped the back of her neck.

A snarl could be heard from Robb and she pulled back with a quiet sigh. “Let’s sit together. Come on.” Jon did not immediately pull away, he wanted the kiss to go on. She clasped his hand, dragging him the few steps to Robb so they all sat in the faintly damp grass together. She crossed her knees, spreading her skirts around her. Dimly, she appreciated the roughspun wool of her dress.

Sansa remembered a day, so very long ago, when Joffrey had come to her bedchamber to demand her presence at court. It was the first time the kingsguard beat her. A burned man had given her a cruel lesson that day, but a very necessary one. “ Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants."  _ What do they want? Truly?  _

They wanted vengeance, she could give them justice. She could give them home and the family they once thought lost. Robb had been her hero, the big brother who took care of them all. She hoped that part of him was still there. She clasped their hands, pulling them into her lap.

“We need to go home.”

Robb had not at all enjoyed watching Jon with his sister. He could smell the desire from his cousin and a fury had slowly begun to build in him. Sansa was all he had left of his family and he would not let Jon take her away from him. He touched Sansa the same way Robb remembered touching Jeyne. He looked at Sansa’s fingers, entwined with his own, her skin felt soft against his. He squeezed.

Sansa gasped and pulled away. 

Jon pulled a dagger from his boot. “I did warn you,” he bit out before lunging towards him. 

Robb did not move, he would welcome a fight. 

Sansa shrieked, grabbing at Jon. “This stops now, the both of you. I will not have it. We are not the Lannisters, we do not fight each other. We do not plot against each other. Robb squeezed my hand, it was a mistake, not a crime worthy of death.”

Jon looked at him suspiciously but sat, Sansa between them. 

“I’m not used to touching people anymore,” he whispered. It was true. Sansa was the only one he had let close since he came back.

“You two are circling each other like a pair of dogs in heat.”

Robb did not think that sounded right. “That is-”

“That is-”

“Shut up, both of you.” Sansa sounded upset.  _ Good.  _ “I understand your anger,believe me, there were times I wanted to kill Joffrey myself. Cersei Lannister, she was as much a torment to me as her son. I know what you both want but it will only lead to failure for us all.”

Robb had not cared whether he failed or not. His family was lost, his army gone, he had woken up alone. The creak of a tree limb the first time he had killed a Frey had made for the loveliest sound. Grey Wind had joined him, letting him revel in the iron taste of blood as he ripped out throats. He had wanted to kill them all, he still did. Sansa would not deter him so easily. 

Jon did too, he could smell it. A simmering rage lay buried in him, his cousin had displayed joy at the idea of giving Sansa the head of her husband, the Lannister imp. Robb wanted that too. 

Robb considered. “I want them all dead.”

“As do I.”  _ My brother once more, in this at least _

“Listen to me, both of you.” There was a pleading tone to her voice Robb misliked. “Continuing on as you have been will gain us nothing. We need to go home, put your efforts to that.”

Robb was not sure he could. He stared at Jon, he wondered if his cousin felt the same.

Jon stared back, his eyes boring into him. He took Sansa’s hand. “What do you want us to do?”

“Find who still supports the Stark name, gain their allegiance once more. I heard many tales of the two of you in King’s Landing, some spoken aloud, others whispered in corners. There is power in your names. Let us use it. The Lannisters are hated, the Freys are accursed. The Boltons are interlopers. We will have support, only if you two can work together well enough to seek it out.”

“I want them dead.” Sansa’s word sounded sweet enough, tempting even, but Robb did not think he could waver in this.

“All of them.”

“Then deliver justice and take us home. Deliver justice for every House who suffered loss, every family member murdered by the Lannisters. Find more weapons and use them. Make your anger a weapon. Give the people what they want and we will go home.

“We met Anguy, he was sworn to House Stark and our father. Remind him of that, take him and the men he was with. Start there. More will come.”

Jon would do as she wanted, he could tell. He studied them together, watched as Jon whispered something and she smiled. He did not like that either.

“Robb?”

“I’ll do whatever you want.” He would not let Jon take her away.

Sansa squealed, reaching over to embrace him. She gently kissed his cheek before moving back. She clasped both their hands once more, pulling them into her lap. 

Robb felt a sense of peace come over him. He had not lost Sansa to Jon after all. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeanette, I'm so sorry...


	8. Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Robbsa y'all. That is all.

 

 

_Freshly fed, he cleaned the blood from his snout and continued North. The scent eventually gives way to sound as he remains hidden, stepping steadily until he sees the dying fire ahead. The men lay around it in slumber and he gets a count. Satisfied, he moves around the camp and continues forward._

_There are enemies ahead and this time, there is a slight hesitation before the attack. Unfamiliar with the lapse, he growls loud enough to wake the three men and two are dead before reaching for their weapons. The last man stands frozen in fear, his sword shaking in his grip, he lunges forward and tears out his throat before he could scream. He looks over the bodies, listening to the blood pulsing from their wounds until the last heartbeat stops._

_His own heart beats rapidly and he feels the warmth of a body, smells her fear as she whimpers softly. Rage turns to lust as he seeks more warmth from her, he nuzzles into her fur preparing to mount and make her his-_

"Robb." She whimpers again. 

He presses close, pulling her to him leaving no space between them. The faint scent of her arousal is more than he can bear as he ruts below her sex, his manhood aching and edging upward.

"Robb." She chokes.

His eyes open and he is behind Sansa. She is trembling and lax in his arms while his face is buried in her hair. Without letting her go, he stays still and feels her pulse quicken at the wrist.

"You saw." He whispered.

Her body tenses. "S-saw..saw what?"

"The men Sansa. You _saw."_

He sensed her fear and held her tighter when her breath became shallow.

"Shhh, you'll wake him."

"Robb." She whined. "Was it Grey Wind?" 

"Yes."

"He killed them." She whispered now.

He heard her tongue smack against the roof of her mouth. 

"I taste their blood Robb, how is that possible?" 

He sighed into her neck. "You lost Lady before you could warg." 

He felt the tension leave her body. She wracked with a silent sob and he winced at her pain. 

"Who hurt you sweet sister..what did they do to you?" He asked, shutting his eyes tight in preparation for her reply. 

He dreaded the answer. The desire for revenge of the family responsible for the death of nearly every member of his family, already resonated with every breath he took, and he needed no other reason to want them dead, but what he held in his arms was _broken,_ and he needed to fix it. 

Sansa stopped weeping. "They executed father in front of me." She breathed. "I _begged.._ I begged that..that _monster_ for his life and watched helplessly as they cut off his head. He had me beaten while his horrible mother prepared me for marriage, to-to have his _children-"_

 _"_ Did he rape you?" He hissed.

"No..I am still a maid." She swallowed.

He exhaled in relief but nevertheless felt more anger for the horror they put her through. 

" _Robb."_ She pleaded. "Y-you're..hurting-"

"I'm sorry." He eased back, but held her still. " _Sansa."_ He choked.

He could feel the sting of tears as his stomach tightened. He could weep for the both of them. Forced to watch each parent killed in front of their eyes, helpless, as news of their sibling's fate came from a distance, and powerless to stop any of it from happening. Out of everyone, Sansa was the only one who left Winterfell on her own accord. She had the highest of hopes, her future brightest of all, a future Queen, fated to give birth to a prince who would rule the Seven Kingdoms. Instead, his sweet sister had learned the truth of life in the most brutal of ways, and forced to live amongst those who tortured her. 

The weight of guilt for not saving her sooner was like being stabbed all over again, even more so that she held hope after all of it. How she could, was beyond his comprehension..he just knew he needed it. Her loyalty gave him a comfort, a warmth he hadn't felt in many a moon. They hadn't _broken_ her, not completely. They hardened her heart, she looked at the world through learned eyes, but the love for her family only strengthened, and instead of buckling under the pressure, Sansa was focused. 

_I understand the focus. Focus. For her._

"How was our mother?" 

Robb winced. How could he answer? 

_She is no longer a child._

_"_ She pleaded for my life." He trembled with anger. 

Sansa's body jerked against his in a silent sob which angered him more.

"They killed me as she watched, and that is what I cannot-"

" _Please..no-_ I can not hear it." 

He sighed and felt a tear roll from his cheek and into her hair. The image of his mother's pleas with the last breath he took, fueling his hunt for blood.

"How was our father?" He strained to ask.

She took a deep breath, her back pressing into his chest. "Brave." She exhaled. "Like mother, pleading for our life. He..he had succumbed to their demands in the end, for the sake of his daughters..and that..that _vile monster_ ordered his execution anyway." She took another breath and exhaled shakily. "I could do nothing. I-I could do _nothing."_ She repeated.

"You _could."_ He assured her. "You _survived_ Sansa." 

He could not say anymore as the emotion drained him more physically than battle. 

"We were the last to see our parents." Her voice trembled. 

He had pulled away, but only by a few inches from her core, his hold on her remaining. He did not want to ever be further than this. This, comforted him. This, warmed him. This, needed him. This, _was all he had._ He would never let go.

 

"Where is Grey Wind?" Jon asked as Robb joined him outside. Ghost had nudged under his hand before turning away to search for water. 

"Close to the Brothers." Robb gruffed. "Let her sleep." He warned as Jon eyed the tent. 

"Who is it?" 

"The one called Anguy with a little over a dozen men. A small camp in their path was taken care of quickly, nothing else between us and them now, or beyond." He watched Ghost disappear over the hill. "What is East?"

"Lannister men, with some Bolton men. A village they've settled in and talk of Lord Stoneheart. Twenty men and horses."

Robb growled lowly. "We could take them ourselves, we don't need _escorts."_

Jon's jaw twitched as he strode forward. "We will not get back to Winterfell without being noticed Robb, we _need_ men. You are still King in the North-"

"That is not what matters." 

"It _needs to matter!_ Those who have escaped, have scattered, gone back home or joined your Uncle-"

"The Blackfish." Robb breathed.

"Yes. You still have an army, but to even get back home, we must find our allies. We cannot do this alone Robb, we need to focus-"

" _Focus."_ He repeated Jon's words. 

He met his unwavering glare, stared back coldly and nodded. Jon hesitated before nodding back. 

"Did you talk?" Jon looked behind him as he asked.

"Yes, of mother..and father." He paused, deciding whether he should reveal what happened. 

"She is stronger than I expected." Jon said slowly without meeting his eyes.

Robb felt tinged with jealousy. His blood began to pump warmer through his veins as he remembered their kiss. It was very clear they had built a bond in their short time together. 

"She can warg." He replied flatly.

Jon's reaction was quick, his mouth dropping open as he took a step back. "Grey Wind?" He gasped softly.

Robb nodded. "I felt her while he attacked." 

Jon closed his mouth and clenched his jaw again. "Was she frightened when she woke?" He asked almost entirely through his teeth.

"A little..I explained." Robb replied.

Jon's brow furrowed in thought. "How close were you to her?"

Robb answered with a mere glance over his shoulder. It was obvious how small the tent they slept in was, and Jon knew it, and asked anyway. Before he could smirk, he spotted movement from the entrance and saw hair like licking flames first.

"Why did you not wake me?" She asked groggily as she stood.

"We just woke ourselves." Jon replied first.

Sansa stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders before slouching wearily. "I need to make water, then we can go."

Jon's eyes darted to him. Robb felt no remorse for the revelation. "You need to eat first." He suggested, his eyes still on Jon. 

"I'll eat on the way. Anguy and his men are not far, we must catch up to them before they get to the village."

"What village is that Sansa?" Jon blurted.

Both of them now focused on her, Robb felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

"The one the Lannister and Bolton men-"

"How do you _know this?"_ Robb growled.

She breathed deeply through her nose, lifting her chin slightly as she stood straight. "The same way I know about Anguy's camp ahead and the men ahead who were killed."

He felt disappointment, but more so impressed at how quickly she had learned. 

"You were... _Ghost?"_ Jon asked hoarsely. 

"Yes." She replied, looking straight to Robb. Without hesitation, Sansa lifted her skirt from the side of her thigh and made a swift exit to the left. He watched with Jon as she disappeared and let his gaze linger. Unaware that he was smirking, he saw Jon's eyes on him. He turned to face him once again. 

"She is a true Stark." He uttered.

 

"There is water ahead, we should stop." Jon suggested. 

"Good." Sansa nodded. "Robb needs to bathe, the scent of blood is-"

"We don't have time for that." Jon hissed.

"We know where they are Jon. The sun has finally provided warmth and I will not travel another minute with the scent of blood so heavy on my brother's skin and garments. 

Jon scoffed in disapproval as she took lead with her horse. They followed behind until she came to a small clearing and dismounted quickly. She turned to them as she tied her horse to a tree, and brushed her hand down her skirt. 

"Robb, come. We need to wash your garments and give them time to dry. Jon, throw me your cloak." 

Jon lingered for a moment before reaching into his satchel. He bundled up his cloak and tossed it to her with heavy breath.

"Will you start a fire and find food?" She asked him cautiously.

"Seven Hells Sansa-"

"We are not camping for the night, but I will need fire for his clothes to dry, and we need to make sure we save what we have left." 

He dismounted before Jon and felt a small victory for her attention. Watching Jon succumb to her felt symbolic of her natural role in life. _A Queen._

 

 _"_ Is the water too cold for you?" She asked from the edge. 

"Not nearly as cold as the pools." He managed to smile.

She returned the smile as he watched her return to washing his garments. She was thinking of Winterfell now, he knew it. Her face held a distant memory he was all too familiar with. The days of their youth, and too little of it spent enjoying moments such as splashing in the weirwood pools with the rest of their siblings. The smiles and laughter, the feeling of the sun as it broke through the clouds to beat down on their shoulders. Sansa would turn her face up with closed eyes and soak in every second.

And this is what she held onto, and with the memory he suddenly never wanted to let go of, he realized: _at least they had it. Every moment, no matter how sparse, we had that. Some people will never know that sort of beauty._

"Will you join me Sansa?" 

Her eyes stayed on his breeches as she wrung the water from them through her hands. "It is not necessary for me to bathe, but if you need help-"

"I'd appreciate that, yes." He responded.

She paused briefly then stood to shake the garment. It snapped loudly in the air before she laid it over the rock in the sun with the rest of his clothes. She stepped back and stared at him. 

"Turn around while I undress." She requested.

Robb turned as she asked, and took two steps forward deeper into the water. He reached forward to let his fingers graze over the surface that met his upper waist. His fingertips created soft ripples around his body as he outstretched his arms. The water was cool, but had not affected the heat that pumped to his groin at the thought of his sister's touch. It was anything but appropriate, the thoughts that stirred in his disturbed mind, but as a Stark, as his _blood,_ he could not feel more close to another being as he felt to her. 

She _awakened_ him. He felt the desire to hold onto her for fear he would lose the part of himself that remained a _man._ That all came back with Sansa. He could actually feel the difference in the temperature of his blood when he saw her. Rage had kept him breathing, but Sansa gave him the real breath of life. It felt like a meaningless hindrance that she was his sister.

"Duck under the water, I'll help you with your hair." Her voice came from behind him. 

He did as she said, welcoming the cool water wash over his face and head as he submerged. Feeling her pull him up from under his shoulder, he twisted around and stood across her. As the water poured from his hair, he blinked and placed his hands on her waist. He would not have been shocked if she stiffened, instead, she slowly reached up with one hand to brush his hair back from his forehead. Her eyes remained on his hair as he stared at her. She's beautiful, everything beautiful amidst an ugly world. Everything he would fight to protect. Die for. _Live for._

 _"_ Kneel down, I see matted blood behind your ear." 

He kept his hands on her waist as he knelt down, letting her fingers wring through the knots of dried blood to wash away his death. She grunted while untangling it, as he remembered his final moment. Without realizing, he tightened his grip in anger and she hissed.

"Sansa-"

"Don't." She rasped. "Don't apologize. They killed you. This is your blood I am washing out and I am just as angry." Her lip quivered. "I will see them all brought to justice. No mercy." She added coldly.

His eyes ran over the small clothes that ran sheer from the water. The pink of her hardened nipples struck him immediately. He could not take his eyes off them, and slowly brought his hand up to thumb over one. She gasped and stepped back quickly. 

"You shouldn't." She breathed.

He took a step forward and grasped her waist again. She looked down and tried to push them down, he only held his grasp and pulled her close. 

"You shouldn't kiss him the way you did." It came from the deepest part of his gut.

She looked down between them. "It was..that was-" 

" _I know what it was._ I feel it Sansa. _I saw what it was."_

Her head snapped up as her eyes blazed into his. "What is _this?"_ She asked. "My protective brother? You behave like a jealous _lover."_

 _"_ Is that what you have become? Are you _lovers_?" He pulled her within inches of his face. 

"No Robb." She choked. "He was the only family I had. All my time at Kings Landing, the relief I finally felt to be freed, and..upon the news of your death.." Tears began to build in her eyes. "I just needed..I needed _someone,_ you have no idea how much-"

He pulled her and held her as she broke into sobs in his embrace. He stroked through her hair and pressed his cheek over her head. "You are not alone my Sansa." He swore. "You will never be alone again."

She quietly thanked him and raised her head to kiss his cheek when he leaned down to capture her mouth. Pulling her body so it was tightly against his, his lips remained as she flinched. He inhaled sharply and began moving his lips between hers. He would feel this and nothing else, and heard a soft whimper as she stopped resisting, her body sinking into his arms. He muffled a groan into her mouth as his tongue pressed through her lips. Arousal beat loudly, straight below, as he hungrily tasted her tongue. His head spun in heated bliss when she kissed him back and held him around his neck.

" _Sansa."_ He breathed into her mouth. 

"Have you _lost your mind?!"_

He felt her break from his grasp before Jon finished yelling. Her chest heaved as she panted heavily. Turning to face his cousin, Sansa took another step away from him. 

"Jon-" Sansa pleaded as Jon rushed into the water.

Robb kept his stance, ready for him. 

"You son of a bitch." Jon growled. 

"Stop!" Sansa screamed. 

Robb made no move as Jon approached him directly, and swung his fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in updating, but through this new job (that has taken over my life) I have had this moment stored in my brain. With the latest episodes of S7, I'll admit, I had the strong desire to introduce the Robb/Sansa part of this fic. A huge thanks to everyone reading this story and so much loves to my gifts: Janina, Natalie, and Vivi, who just keep on being there for me, and each other. Thank you so much.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! The show kind of screwed with my mojo!

Jon's fist never connected to Robb's face as he had intended. Instead, Robb reached out and caught the fist in his hand. Jon looked at him, stunned. Robb growled and turned his head ever so slightly and Jon heard the crack. The next thing he knew he was flying backwards and landing on his arse in the water. 

Jon scrambled to stand up and then drew his sword. He was shaking in anger. 

"Stop it!" Sansa shouted and stepped in front of Robb. She glared at Jon. "What do you think you're doing? He's your cousin and your King, Jon!"

"Aye, and he was kissing you! He and I are cousins, but you and he are brother and sister. Have you forgotten that?" He nodded toward Robb. "Has he?"

Sansa reddened and she ducked her head, looking ashamed. "No," she said softly. "I have not forgotten."

"Leave her alone," Robb ordered him, pulling Sansa back beside him. "She's done nothing wrong. We've done nothing wrong."

"Yes, you are! You were kissing her," Jon growled and stepped forward. 

"Do you want to go down again?" Robb asked with an arched brow. "Put that sword away."

"What have you become?" Jon whispered. 

"I'm a dead man," Robb said, laughing humorlessly. "Tell me how things change for you after you've died and been brought back." He looked over at Sansa, his expression softening to one of love and wonder. "You don't see things the same way."

Jon didn't know what to make of this. He jerked his chin in Sansa's direction. "Keeping her safe is my first priority. I'll not see her harmed or taken advantage of, Stark."

Robb narrowed his eyes. "I won't either."

Sansa stepped forward. "Please remember that no matter what state of..." she frowned at Robb, "living or dead you are in, we are all family and we do have a common goal: we want to go home." She looked at Longclaw pointedly. "Jon, please put your sword away now. You'll not be using it against your cousin and your King."

How was it that Sansa could make him do her bidding? Jon wondered as he sheathed Longclaw. 

"Shall we dress then, or dry off in Jon's case, and continue on?"

Both men nodded and she led the charge by making her way to shore. Both Robb and Jon fell in line behind her without a word.

When they were dressed and dry and ready to depart, the issue then became about the horses and who would ride with who. Robb had no horse. So, it stood to reason that Sansa would alternate between riding with Jon and riding with Robb so as to not exhaust the horses. 

"She'll ride with me first," Robb said, and drew Sansa with him to the horse she'd been using. 

"No, she'll ride with me first," Jon said and marched over to escort her to his.

"I'd like to spend some time with my sister if you don't mind, Jon," Robb said and grabbed her arm, dragging her back to her horse. But then Jon grabbed her other arm and attempted to pull her back. "I think you've spent enough time with her," Jon told him pointedly. 

"You've had a full moon's turn with her by now, have you not?" Robb asked and tugged on Sansa's arm. 

Jon tugged on her arm now. "Yes, and we've grown quite comfortable with each other—" 

"Oh, have you?" Robb growled and tugged again. "I saw how comfortable you were before."

Another tug. "Aye, and I saw how comfortable you were too—"

Sansa yanked herself free from both and stomped her foot. "Enough!" She turned so that she was facing them both. "I'll decide who I ride with first." She looked at Jon. "I'll ride with you." She looked at Robb who was about to speak and she cut him off, "And I'll hear no more about it."

Sansa rolled her eyes at the sound of Robb grumbling, and when she caught Jon looking a bit smug, she shot him a look and he cast his eyes downward and had the decency to at least look ashamed. 

Once they were ready, they started off, with Jon leading the way. Sansa sat before him. 

“Why are you being so hard on him?” Sansa asked Jon softly. She wasn’t sure how much Robb could hear, and she hoped very little. 

“He came back from the dead, Sansa, and he killed all those men. Strung them from trees…it was brutal and savage, and you can say what you want about me, but I haven’t done that.”

 _Maybe because you didn’t think of it_ , Sansa thought. 

“I don’t know what coming back from the dead does to a man, Sansa. He wears the face of our kin, but what if he is something other? Something that could snap and hurt you?”

“He won’t,” Sansa said firmly. “He would no more harm me than you would.”

“He kissed you. What kind of brother kisses his sister?”

 _What sort of sister lets her brother kiss her?_ she wondered. _And what sort of sister would like it?_ she shivered, thinking of Cersei and Jaime Lannister. 

“Are you cold?” Jon asked and drew his cloak around her as much as he could. 

“Jon, please trust me. Robb will not hurt me.”

“It’s not you I mistrust, Sansa,” Jon huffed. 

Hoping to ease his tension and ire, Sansa rested one hand over his – the one that held her firmly against him on her belly. She stroked the back of his hand gently. 

She felt him nuzzle at her neck and moan softly. She tilted her head to the side, giving him further access and wondered when she had become so depraved and wanton. For so long in King’s Landing she had been deprived of affection and love. She found she rather craved it now. Desperately. And who better to give her that affection and love she craved than her cousin and her brother? Both of whom were taking her home? 

She just wanted this rift between them to heal. Robb and Jon had hardly ever fought, not in any serious manner, not like this. It was disconcerting and Sansa didn’t know what it would take for Jon to trust that Robb would not hurt her. 

“I love you both so much, Jon,” she said softly. “And we’ve no hope of winning the battle for our home if we fight amongst ourselves. Perhaps instead of looking for ways that Robb has changed, you could instead look at ways he is the same.”

Jon fell silent for a long while and then, finally, he said. “Very well then, Sansa. For you I will do that.”

She smiled broadly, feeling as though she had accomplished something. 

“There is very little I think I would deny you,” Jon murmured in her ear and then kissed behind it softly. 

Sansa turned her head, feeling a bit mischievous and smiled at him. “Is that so?”

Jon’s gray eyes glinted with desire. It was not unlike the way Robb looked at her, too…and other men she’d come across in King’s Landing. But Jon and Robb’s lust did not scare her. Nay, it rather…aroused her. Made her feel bold. When Jon bent his head, she opened her mouth to him and he kissed her deeply. 

“I can see you,” Robb growled behind them.


End file.
